


Of High Teas and Memories

by TheLibrarian (es101wx)



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-15 14:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13614867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/es101wx/pseuds/TheLibrarian





	1. Chapter 1

Now that the Tethering Ceremony's done, it's only to be expected the party moves to the Annex: Flynn and Baird, Stone and Jones... 

Jenkins stops, suddenly. Cassandra is not with them. Cassandra is  _nowhere to be seen_. 

And there's something odd, something he can't quite put his finger on - it has started with that hug Mr Carsen and the Colonel squeezed him into, and he can't seem able to shake the sensation off... Still, everything seems normal. Perfectly normal. 

"Have you seen miss Cillian?" he asks Eve, trying to sound relaxed. The look in Eve's eyes softens immediately, though, and he's quite taken aback by the way she softly closes her fingers on his forearm. 

"Maybe you should go and look for her, Jenkins." 

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want to impose my pres-"

"Take it from me: go to her."


	2. Chapter 2

"Cassandra?" 

He's finally found her in the small kitchen, busy buttering slices of white bread. 

"Jenkins!" she smiles at him warmly, as she always does, and he feels his heart skip a beat - as it always does, whenever she smiles at him like that. 

"You're missing the party... Colonel Baird sent me to-"

"Oh, the party," she nods, absentmindedly. "I was not in the mood, to be honest, that's why..." she gestures to the table and it's now his turn to nod.

"I'm not in the mood, either. Even if I don't know why." And it is true: the feeling of something out of place is still with him and he sits down on a stool. He likes watching her cooking, he realized, but at the same time, he's aware he actually  _never_ watched her cooking.  _Something odd_ _, indeed_. "Cucumber sandwiches?" he asks, not exactly sure about how he knows that. 

"Cucumber sandwiches, yes," she replies enthusiastically. "It's odd, I know, but... I found myself thinking about...oh, never mind. You'll think I'm silly." 

Jenkins tilts his head and looks at her as his hand reaches out for hers. "I could never think you're silly," he declares, his thumb grazing gently the inside of her wrist. " _Never_." 

"I keep thinking about  _high tea_."

" _High tea in the Library_!" Jenkins exclaims, pushing back the stool. "That's what's swirling in my head, too! I haven't the slightest idea about why, but... But..." 

Cassandra lowers her eyes, embarrassed. "But it's like they're not  _thoughts_. They're more concrete than mere thoughts. As if they were..."

"...memories. But they can't be memories, we never..."

Jenkins' eyes drop to the first, neatly assembled cucumber sandwich staring at them from the plate. "Your cucumber sandwiches," he murmurs, " _good enough to die for..._ "

Cassandra's head snaps towards him. "What?" The rush of pain and panic that's hit her at his words was so strong she has to sit. "What did you say?"

"Just something I..." He shakes his head, confused. "What if they are, Cassandra? Memories, I mean. What if they're  _memories_?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Memories_ , thinks Cassandra, pacing her room.  _Memories_. 

They  _can't_ be memories. 

If they're memories, the dream which woke her was not just a dream. And she can't bear the thought. 

She shudders and tightens the dressing gown around her waist. No, they can't be memories. 

_Your cucumber sandwiches..._

No.

_...Good enough to die for._

NO.

They can't be. 

For he's immortal, after all, isn't he? 

Still, she saw him die. And she heard her own scream, felt the scratching sensation in her throat as her voice and tears leave her. She knew - she  _knows_ \- the pain.  _I don't want to live in a world without Jenkins_. 

 _I don't want to live_.

No, they can't be memories. 

 _Without Jenkins_.

The feelings are so strong, though. So crushing. 

Her chest  _aches_ at the simple thought. She can feel that pain, she can hear that desperate, primal scream. No, they can't be memories.

But maybe they are.

And if they are, she'd lost him. Somewhere in another time and a place, yes, but she'd lost him. 

That's why she looks at the clock and storms out her room, regardless it's three in the morning. That's why she runs down the corridor, and knocks urgently at Jenkins' door. That's why she's so breathless she cannot tell him why she's there when he opens the door. 

And that's why he holds her tight, right there in the hall, waiting for her to regain her breath.


	4. Chapter 4

"...Cassandra?" 

"I-I'm sorry, I was... Well, it's just-"

"Cassandra. Breath." Jenkins holds her gently by her shoulders, his thumbs grazing reassuringly the fabric of his vest. For the slightest moment, he wonders what could possibly have happened, but as soon as she nods and starts counting her own breaths, and lifts her eyes in his, he knows. 

She'd remembered it, too. 

"You were dead," she managed, tears pooling in her eyes - and she lifts her hand and touches his face, tentatively, trembling, with fingers as cold as ice. "You were dead," she repeated, and her voice breaks as her hand cups his cheek. His hand now covers hers, and he realizes with a start that in this state of mind, he could just kiss her here, now, in the middle of the corridor. So he forces himself to break their contact. 

"I know," he nods. "But this is not the place. May I invite you in?" 

Cassandra is not sure whether she'd ever entered his rooms; still, she instinctively feels at home there, safe and at ease, as her mind returns fragments of moments, hugs and kisses she knows (does she now?) they never shared. 

"You were dead and my heart was broken," she whispers when she hears the faint  _click_ of the door closing. Jenkins breathes slowly, desperately trying to force his heart to regain its usual rhythm. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers back. 

"It was somewhere else, I guess. But I keep seeing it. I keep  _feeling_ it." He's in front of her now and once again her fingers run to his cheek, fondly. "The pain. The loss. I left the Library, you know." He's still and silent, absorbing every word. "I didn't want to live anymore. Not in a world without you.

"Cassandra..."

"I don't want to live in a world without you," she repeats calmly. "I can't lose you again."

"You never lost me, Cassandra," he reminded her gently, bowing his head towards her. "You'll never lose me." His voice is low and warm and full of promises, but he can't look at her now. He knows all too well how his chivalry will be forgotten if he looks at her right now. She cups his cheeks, though, and guide him to look into her eyes.

" _Promise me_." 

 


	5. Chapter 5

_"Promise me._ "

Jenkins looks at her, his mind full of those two words.

 _Promise me_. 

He blinks, for he is now realizing how breathing is becoming more difficult every moment. 

 _Promise me_. 

And suddenly everything is just too much - too deep, too desperate, too intense.

He can't promise her - his voice went lost.  He can't promise her - words are something entirely too little to embrace what he feels. He can't promise her - words are  _not enough_. 

So he closes his fingers around her wrists and leans in, kisses her forehead. 

 _Promise me_.

He drowns into the blue of her gaze. She's surprised, her eyes wide open, her mouth slightly agape - Jenkins looks at her, mesmerized. This tiny, perfect thing cares for him. This young, brilliant woman could have every man on earth - still, she wants him. And she's been adamant about it, too. He finds almost too hard to believe that she... but she's here, now. She's remembering, too, she's remembering the same things he is, and those fragments of memories can't possibly lie... He kisses her temple.

 _Promise me_. 

He catches her lips - softly, reverently - and lets her taste fill him, her hands grip the labels of his robe. When her lips part, and breathing becomes something he could easily forget to do, is Cassandra who breaks their contact, who snuggles against his chest and sighs contently. 

"Well... Words are overrated, I guess."


	6. Chapter 6

_Warmth_ is the first thing she feels as soon as she starts to wake.

Warmth, and the soft weight of an arm around her waist.

Then comes the cologne, subtle and enthralling, and as she inhales deeply, the arm lazily holding her frame tightens its grip. 

Cassandra smiles against the bare skin of a strong torso, and opens her eyes, quite sure by now it wasn't just a good dream. 

"Good morning," she whispers. Jenkins lets his hand travel slowly up and down her back, following the perfect trace of her backbone.

"Good morning," he agrees - and  _yes_ , he realizes,  _yes, memories are coming back_. Old and new ones. Like the night before. "How are you?" he asks softly. In all that mess of memories lost and found, _one thing_  stands, undeniable: until last night, they had never-

"I'm so happy I could  _burst_ ," she reassures him, her hand so familiar and gentle on his chest. She props on her elbow, stretching her neck in order to kiss him. It doesn't take him long to catch her and roll her on her back. 

"So am I," he admits, lowering himself to brush her lips with his own. "So am I."


End file.
